Each time we visit a country, we plan one day of doing absolutely nothing. The usual indispensable elements are sunbathing, the sound of sea or ocean waves, a leisurely rather than purposeful stroll in nature, wine, and good food. This time we savoured the delights of the Andalusian village El Rompido, not far from the city of Huelva. During the day - sangria on the beach, in the evening - wine and paella, late in the evening - flamenco and wine again. What can you do - life is beautiful.
Two places that you absolutely must see if you have found yourself in Seville are the Real Alcázar palace with its magnificent garden, Moorish (medieval Muslim) patterned tiles and gilded decorations, as well as the old Roma quarter Triana on the peninsula in the central part of the city. It is probably this fusion of cultures that has always drawn me when thinking of Andalusia.
If one mentions the folklorised saying "See Paris and die," then living even a few days in Andalusia and attending the Feria de Abril is of the same kind for me - only I'm in no hurry to the other side; I'm getting on quite well right here. The magnificence with which Seville - the capital of Andalusia - greeted us did not disappoint.
Before heading in the direction of Spain, we nevertheless decided to drive to the southernmost cape of Portugal, jutting out westward into the ocean. The name of the cliff and lighthouse found on the map - Cabo de São Vicente - promised something good. And so it was, but a moment before this cape we came across one fantastically beautiful beach, Praia do Beliche, to which one had to descend by a fairly steep step path.
For a couple of weeks now I've been catching myself thinking that work is being planned for January, February and March, but there's nowhere quite right to record it. That means only one thing - time for a new 2020 planner. Before I choose my permanent companion for the coming year, I need to survey what's on offer. Well then, let's take a look...
Since this boat excursion, 184 days have passed - or 4,416 hours, or 264,960 minutes, or 15,897,600 seconds - but the flavour of the emotional experience has remained. Such ocean expanse, a strong but warm wind current, sizeable waves that tossed the rubber motorboat up and down as if at play - as if to say: your dozen little human lives are nothing compared to the eternity embodied that day by the ocean waters. Much oxygen flowed in, and an indescribable feeling of freedom - a thousand times more powerful than the feeling of fear or danger.
This day, in essence, was a journey. I have come to understand that I like roads, because sooner or later you reach the destination you have set and can set a new, next destination. But along the way new discoveries come, previously unexperienced situations, or unusual scenes open up to the eye. At a casual glance roads may seem static, unchanging, monotonous. But no - they are constantly transforming, changing, tracing the fates of people, even entire countries. I like to travel roads fast, because the mind races far ahead and irritation arises when the body cannot keep up. So we rented a car so that in our travels through Portugal, Spain, and Gibraltar we would not be tied to public transport schedules.
I have had the urge to write these stories for quite some time, but the prompt came just now, because this week there will be an opportunity to run a seminar at the LCCI entitled "How to Find Employees for Your Company".
If you're looking for something out of the ordinary for a small team or group event, since June it can be found right in the heart of Old Riga at Jāņa sēta. The only thing is - everything here is done in earnest, so it's best to leave cars and other vehicles at home and not plan a client meeting or business trip for the next day. That's why our friendly group headed to this event on a Friday evening - better safe than sorry, you never know with those monks, cellars and wines.
It was the last day in Lisbon, and we decided to spend it more or less aimlessly wandering the city streets and devoting time to anything that spoke to the eyes and heart. We began our walk in the direction of Praça do Comércio at a fairly early hour. The city was still lazily dozing, the window shutters still closed, the streets still holding yesterday's litter, and the owners of small shops and cafés were unhurriedly stirring, moving boxes of newly delivered goods. The narrow alleyways led lower and lower down from the hill.
